Burned
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: "So this is how your boss operates? Sends you to burn her." AU Season 7. McGiva. Written 2012.
1. Chapter 1

**Burned**

 **Rifiuto: Non Mirena**

 **Summary: _"_** ** _So this is how your boss operates? Sends you to burn her."_ AU Season 7. McGiva. Written 2012.**

Unreliable.

How _dare_ he call _her_ unreliable.

She'd given him everything- her childhood, her heart, her very soul, nearly her life- and _for wha_ t?

She was the best agent he'd turned out, and _this_ is how he repays her.

Her own father.

Dared to name her a traitor to Mossad and Israel.

A _traitor_.

Her _father_.

And, unfortunately, in Mossad, such a sentence resulted in death.

* * *

She stumbled down the street; she wasn't sure how she'd gotten here, or even really where she was at the moment. All she recognized was the chill of the rain as it pounded the sidewalk beneath her feet, soaked her clothes, and the throbbing pain in her head from where the bullet had grazed her. How she'd managed to survive the firing squad- because things were never simple where her father was concerned- was a complete mystery to her, let alone escape Israel and return to America.

Or, at least, she _assumed_ she was back in America.

At the moment, everything was hazy.

Laughter soon drew her attention, and she turned; it had been a while since she'd seen him, but her frazzled mind recognized his gait instantly. And the girl at his side- she'd grown up in the three years since her case had been closed. They rushed through the rain, holding an umbrella over their heads, laughing about something. Clearly, they'd either been to a movie or out to dinner or something-

The laughter, however, stopped as he laid eyes on her. She watched his lips move, but heard no sound; he pulled away from his sister, stepping out from the protection of the umbrella into the rain, towards her, concern in his green eyes. She cocked her head, struggling to hear as he spoke, but the sound of the rain was soon replaced with a ringing- that familiar dial-up tone- accompanied by the pounding of the blood in her veins.

And then, all of a sudden, "Ziva? What... what are you... here?"

She reached for him, fingers shaky, just missing him. She stumbled, the exhaustion from the last few... however long she'd been gone catching up to her, and she stumbled, managing to slam into his arms as she hit the ground. A chill began to settle in her bones, and she found her gaze locked on his face; she heard no calls for help, no orders for Sarah to call an ambulance, or help him get her into the apartment building, nothing but the pounding of the rain and her blood.

And suddenly, the rain and pounding of her heart was drowned out by his voice.

"Ziva! Ziva, _answer me_!" Feeling peace for the first time since her debacle, she let her eyes close. _"Ziva!"_

* * *

She awoke hours later, to find herself buried in the comforter of a bed; instantly, a familiar face appeared before her, and she sighed, reaching out to gently brush her fingers against his cheek, relief flooded her at the feel of his skin. He was real. "Mc... Gee."

"What are you doing here, Ziva?" His voice as soft as he took her hand. "We thought you'd died."

She swallowed, briefly meeting his gaze before slowly shifting; Sarah was on the other side of the bed, watching her. "I was... ready to die." She met the college student's gaze, wondering silently how she must look in Sarah's eyes. "I..." She turned back to Tim. "Had only death in my heart." She met his gaze. Her heart began to calm as he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

"What are you doing here, Ziva? You're not supposed to be alive, let alone back in D.C."

The siblings waited, giving her time to gather her thoughts, and she took the time to study them both. Sarah had certainly grown up in the time since they'd last met, and Tim... "I thought for sure I had not survived. I did not mean to live through it."

"Live through what?" Tim met his sister's gaze, and after a moment, she got up. "I'm gonna go make some tea. How 'bout I make you a cup, Ziva?"

* * *

The chattering of her teeth and the shaking of her limbs woke her about midnight, and she slowly lifted her head from the pillow. At some point during the night, Sarah must have left, returning to Waverly, and Tim had joined her in the bed. Though they lay with considerable space between them, the feel of his hand on her hip brought a comfort she couldn't explain.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, quickly looking around. A moment passed, before she lay back down again, scooting closer to him. After tucking her head beneath his chin and her arms between their bodies, she let herself go back to sleep. The movement, however, caused Tim's eyes to snap open. He glanced down, and after a moment, slid his arms around her, holding her close.

* * *

"Why didn't she go to _Tony_? I mean, no offense, Timmy, but you and Ziva have always been friends. She's never seemed... you know, interested in you like she's seemed in Tony."

"I know, Sar, I'm just as baffled as you are. I mean... it's evident she and Tony have something going on, always have, from the moment she joined the team."

It was silent, before,

"You love her, don't you, Timmy? You've always loved Ziva."

"She's my partner, Sarah."

"But she's not just any partner, is she?"

"... what I want to know is how exactly she ended up back in D.C. When Gibbs and Tony returned, neither said a word, just that Ziva had decided to stay. And... we never heard anything from her... we thought she'd died, and then... then you and I find her on the street in Silver Spring... what could possibly send her fleeing back to D.C.?"

"I did not come back voluntarily, Tim." The siblings turned as Ziva slipped away from her hiding place and into the kitchen, looking the worse for wear in one of Tim's MIT shirts. Her hair was a mess and she was pale, if not sick thanks to exposure. They waited, silently, for her to continue. She swallowed thickly, unsure of the best way to tell them-

"I was burned."


	2. Chapter 2

**Rifiuto: Non Miren** **a**

 **A/N: Life has finally given me time to breathe and update some of Zani's stories. She's doing better, by the way.- Licia**

 **Thanks to syalie, Reader aka Sun Samurai and Crawcolady for reviewing 1.**

"Um... burned? As in... _Burn Notice_?"

Ziva furrowed a brow, turning her attention to Tim, who waved it away. "It's an American TV show." He stood, quickly helping her to a stool and pushing a cup of hot coffee into her hands once she was seated.

"About a spy who's been burned, and he tries to get revenge on those who burned him in the first place." Sarah replied excitedly. _Burn Notice_ was perhaps her absolute favorite show; she never missed an episode. Slowly, Ziva nodded.

"Then... yes, I guess that is what happened."

"So... if you've been burned, Ziva, exactly how did you end up back in America? You were in Israel-"

"I got out." Her whisper was soft, her gaze locked on the coffee in her cup.

"How?" Sarah asked, taking a seat next to her brother's former coworker. Ziva swallowed thickly.

"My father... sent me on a mission... on the Damocles... when it sank... instead of continuing with the mission, I... I fled. I do not remember how I managed to escape Somalia, but... but the next thing I know, I am... stumbling towards you both on the sidewalk..." She stopped, and Sarah reached out, brushing a strand of hair out of Ziva's face.

"Well you got here somehow." The girl replied.

"I just... don't remember how." Ziva whispered, slowly lifting her gaze to meet Tim's. The emerald-eyed agent sighed, reaching out and taking her hand.

* * *

The water was warm; it slipped through her tangled curls, trailing down her back, before sliding down the drain. She sat on the floor of Tim's shower, arms wrapped around her knees, cheek resting on her arms, the tears that slipped down her cheeks mixing with the water from her shower until it would be impossible to tell her tears from the water running. The scars on her body showed exactly what the others in Mossad deemed her as; though she had been one of the higher ranking officers, well-

Mossad didn't exactly take... _kindly_... to traitors.

And though her father informed her that he didn't order the burning- more of a beating, really- she knew, that in some way, he had. She'd brought shame to Mossad and her father- shame by surviving the sinking of the Damocles. Like most in Mossad, Ziva had been groomed and trained to the point the death was more welcome than surviving, especially in dire situations where your country was at stake.

 _You were never meant to live through it._

And yet, she had.

And Eli had viewed such an act as her survival a treasonous matter.

His own daughter, turned traitor to Mossad and Israel.

"Ziva? You okay?"

Slowly, she lifted her head as Sarah McGee's voice penetrated her brain, and turned towards the sliding shower door McGee had installed the year before when the bathroom had been fixed after the upstairs neighbor's pipes had burst, flooding the apartments below them. "F... fine."

"You sure?"

She swallowed. "Yes." A beat, before she heard Sarah's tennis shoes squeak on the laminated hardwood floor. Once gone, Ziva shut off the shower and slowly climbed to her feet. She opened the sliding door and grabbed the robe hanging on the hook- McGee's robe. As it wrapped around her wet body, his scent enveloped her; typewriter ink and coffee, with just a hint of sandalwood. After a moment, she shuffled towards the sink, picking up the hairbrush that Sarah had given her to use. As she brushed the water out of her curls and wrung them out, her gaze darted to the mirror before moving away, but then she stopped, her gaze going back to the mirror before her. Setting the brush down, she stepped back, until she could see the majority of her upper torso in the mirror. Slowly, she untied the robe and let it drop, pooling at her feet. Now completely bare, she felt her breathing speed up as her gaze fell towards her worn body.

Scars, hundreds of hideous scars. They crisscrossed and knifed across her body; some red welts, others puckered skin around raised scars. Patches of pale white clashed with angry pink, beautiful purples blossomed beneath her skin- some blood blisters, others bruises. Running diagonal across her stomach was a four inch scar left by a knife. The skin, puckered pink was tinged with purple, having never gotten the proper medical care needed- it was the one time she'd broken, allowing her emotions to show during the 'burning'.

She'd cried out as Ilan attempted to gut her, and had, somehow, found the energy to fight back; wrenching the knife out of his grasp and slicing him across the cheek- mirror the scar she herself now bore. It hadn't been very deep- barely sliced the muscle of her stomach lining- but it was painful none the less. From that moment on, her survival instincts had kicked in.

She reached up, running her fingers over the slice running down her neck, at the bump in her left clavicle-

One, a gift from Malachi; the other, courtesy of Liat.

By the end of it, she'd been battered, bruised, bleeding... multiple broken bones, fractured ribs, torn muscles, broken skin... and yet, she'd somehow managed to escape, clean herself up as best she could, and escape to America. Her gaze drifted up to the mirror again; the bruising around her eye had finally gone down, though there were a few small blood vessels beneath her right eye that had burst and refused to heal. In all, she was a mess.

Cleaner, safer, but still, a mess.

A soft knock tore her out of her thoughts, and she turned. Quickly pulling the robe back on, she tied it and went to the door, unlocking and opening it. McGee stood on the other side, a pile of folded clothes in his arms. "Sarah thinks you're roughly the same size." She took them, giving him a soft smile.

" _Toda_."

He nodded. " _Al lo davar_."

Clearly, he'd picked up Hebrew from the few short years they'd worked together. As he left, leaving her to dress, Ziva closed the bathroom door before leaning against it. She quickly examined the clothing, stopping when her eyes lit on the words written on the t-shirt. A tiny smile tugged at her lips, as something seemed to break within her brain. Break, and then... completely and absolutely shatter.

 _It was only just a dream._


	3. Chapter 3

**Rifiuto: Non Miren** **a**

 **Thanks to DS2010, hellfire45, and Reader aka Sun Samurai for reviewing 2, and syalie for reviewing 1 and 2.**

The bright silver lettering that danced across the fuchsia-colored shirt shone every time it caught the light. Ziva was surprised to find that she and Sarah were exactly the same size, and seemed to have the same taste in jeans. As she brushed her dark curls out of her face and carefully shut the bathroom door behind her, her gaze caught sight of the glimmer of the sun through the open window. It sent the silver on her shirt dancing, and after a moment, she moved to exit the bedroom, heading for the kitchen. Both McGee siblings were in the small living room area, chatting softly, cups of coffee in their hands.

As Ziva moved to fill her own mug with coffee, she stopped, catching sight of the lettering as it reflected in the shiny chrome of the fridge.

 _It was only just a dream._

She cocked her head. It looked different in the light of the kitchen as opposed to the bathroom. Dirtier, more twisted, less... intelligible. It was simply this tangled mass of silver on fuchsia. But even so, it was pretty.

Finally, she turned, quickly pouring herself a cup of coffee before shuffling into the living room to join the siblings, both of whom looked up when she entered. Sarah was the first of the siblings to speak.

"Hey, Ziva. How you feeling?"

The Israeli turned to her. "Better. Cleaner. Thank you." She perched on the edge of the sofa, taking a sip of her coffee; her gaze darted to the side as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The siblings watched her quietly, sharing glances that said a thousand things without a word being passed in open air. "What? What is it?"

"Are you okay, Ziva?" Sarah's voice was weary. Something about the Israeli was off; she didn't look right, or act right or speak right or... something. The grad student couldn't put her finger on it, but something- something major- was off about her brother's former coworker.

 _The woman's just survived being nearly beaten to death by members of her father's company. Of course something's off with her at the moment!_

Ziva seemed to think for a moment, biting her lip, before she met Sarah's eye and smiled. "Of course I am okay, Sarah. Why wouldn't I be?"

Sarah furrowed a brow. "Because you... you escaped a _beating_ , Ziva. You need to go to the hospital. You've clearly got broken bones and fractured ribs, maybe even a punctured lung."

"I don't need to go to the hospital, Sarah. I am fine."

The younger woman glanced at her brother, who hadn't taken his eyes off Ziva. In fact, Tim was watching her intently. "Ah... Ziva... you're... your clavicle is clearly broken. I can see it poking up through the shirt-"

Ziva glanced down, brow scrunched up in confusion as she stared at the bump Sarah indicated. "Oh, that. It's nothing major."

"Nothing major?" Tim spoke up for the first time, utterly shocked. "Ziva... how can you say that a broken clavicle is _nothing major_? And God only knows the other internal injuries you have that all need to be checked out. Bleeding, bruising, punctured or ruptured... anything!" She blinked, wondering why he was so upset about something that didn't seem to bother her. "For all we know, you could be suffering a punctured lung and not know it!"

A beat. "I'm fine, McGee."

He groaned. "Ziva-"

"I said I am fine, McGee."

"You need to go to the doctor-"

" _Tim!_ I'm _fine_!"

The use of his first name startled him, and he snapped his jaw shut. Despite her worry, Sarah chuckled. "Wow, Timmy. The only time I've ever seen you shut up like that is whenever Julia yelled at you for doing something wrong." Green eyes narrowed at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Ziva watched in silence as the siblings snarked at each other like two lions fighting over a zebra carcass. Now that she really looked at them, she could see how closely they resembled each other.

It wasn't just the emerald green eyes the pair each possessed, or the pale, freckled skin and auburn hair that was so characteristic of the Irish, but their jawlines were the same- though Sarah's was softer, more feminine, whereas Tim's were sharper, more masculine. Both siblings were tall, like their parents- Tim, at six feet, and Sarah, close to five- seven- which had been a shock when they first met Sarah, because the girl constantly slumped, trying to make herself appear smaller. But the team had soon learned that Tim was only a couple inches shorter than their father, who was six-two, and their mother, who had been born in Dublin, had at one time been a runway model. Of course, the McGee family had been marked by tragedy early on; due to the fact that Tim and Sarah's mother had been stalked, raped, and murdered on their front lawn one evening. Lorraine Donahue McGee had been slaughtered just steps from her front door by an obsessed fan, on Christmas Eve, nineteen eighty-three. John had managed to get Christmas off, but Lorraine had been away at a photo shoot in Dublin; she'd managed to catch a plane and was planning on surprising her kids for Christmas when she'd been killed. The siblings had been raised alone, by their father, until he remarried eight years later; Julia was a point of contempt for the siblings, and the only thing they really agreed on in regards to their family.

"If I had a punctured lung, I would know it, because I would not be able to breathe, Tim." Ziva replied, quietly. The siblings turned to her; Sarah's expressive green eyes sparked with worry.

"Are you sure you're okay, Ziva? You're acting..."

"Hinky." Tim filled in. Sarah turned to her brother, and he raised an eyebrow; she nodded, understanding.

Ziva gave them both a small smile. "I am fine; I promise. If anyone is acting... hinky, it is you two." All the siblings did was share a worrisome glance.


End file.
